


Strawberries and Pressed Flowers

by aprilwinks (sleepysauce), Thwipp (Thwipp_Thwipp)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Hunter Exam (Hunter X Hunter), Knotting, M/M, Romance, Scenting, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysauce/pseuds/aprilwinks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thwipp_Thwipp/pseuds/Thwipp
Summary: Life for an omega is never easy. But for Kurapika, who just wants to get his Hunter Licence, capture the Phantom Troupe, and put his clansmen to rest, oh, and happens to possess the last living set of scarlet eyes, well, it's nothing short of an ordeal.But it just so happens that a strange, yet interesting Alpha had to make things all the more difficult for him.
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika
Comments: 104
Kudos: 353





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> it's aprilwinks and thwipp here with a KrKr COLLAB FIC!  
> gasp. exciting.  
> there will be romance.  
> there will be pwrn.  
> kuroro will be viciously dragged (he deserves it).  
> kurapika will be beautiful and amazing and a little bit unhinged at times (and can you blame him??).  
> this is dedicated to all those filthy gremlin fans like us.

The elevator came to a sudden stop, the gears grinding noisily overhead. Kurapika hesitated as the doors slid open, revealing a vast underground cavern of concrete and bricks, and hundreds upon hundreds of people bustling around, all with badges pinned upon their chests emblazoned with numbers. These must be the other contestants. The room was crowded, deafening with the noise of the contestants chatting away, and downright suffocating given the sheer number of scents filling the room - alphas, betas, and even a few omegas too. The Hunter Exam was unbiased, but it was still a surprise. 

Kurapika himself had been careful to apply his scent dampeners every day since he had first boarded the boat with Gon and Leorio. So far, judging by the disinterested looks from the other contestants as he followed his friends, the formula seemed to be working a treat. The last thing he needed was some sexist alpha breathing down his neck to protect him, or worse, hit on him. 

Still, he was nervous.

He was finally here. 

This was the 287th Hunter Exam, and the first step in what he expected would be a long perilous road to avenging his clansmen. All of the trials he and his friends had gone through had been worth it. They had made it. Of course, there was still a long way to go, but Kurapika could not help but feel… lighter. 

“Yo.”  
  
It sounded like it was above them. Kurapika stared up at a normal man dressed in blue. He had a roundish figure-in about everything, his body and face. He was a beta and his scent smelled normal. Too normal compared to everyone else's here.

“You can tell we’re new?” Gon asked.

“More or less.” He replied, jumping down from the juncture of the wall. The pot-bellied man walked over to their group. He started talking about some of the other Hunter Exam test retakers when-

They all turned their attention to the commotion. 

It was another contestant, a beta judging from his scent, shouting loudly at another. 

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” the man shouted loudly, disproportionately irate to what Kurapika could only assume must have been an accident. It was the nerves, no doubt. Tempers and excitement were running high in the air, fully tangible in the intermingled scents of all the contestants. 

“Please excuse me.” said the other contestant, his voice soft, yet cutting through the air like a knife. 

But just as Kurapika went to turn away, disinterested by such a mundane interaction, he stopped. A thick awful scent hit him full in the nose. Alpha. Part of it was sweet. But obnoxiously so, the sort of sweet that resulted in a thudding headache - like a child who ate too much of a rich chocolate cake and had a bellyache afterwards. But there was more to it. A cloying metallic scent that suffocated everything else. It was one he knew all too well. 

Blood.

And it was coming from the contestant who had bumped into the angry man. 

He looked strange. Bright red hair, coiffed backwards in thick waves, and a star and teardrop tattooed on either cheek. His clothes were equally bizarre - purple coiled-toe boots and a white crop top with house suits on the front and back. He looked like a clown - colourful and bright, as if he had just stopped by from a children’s party to pick up his Hunter Licence. 

And he smelled _horrible_. 

Kurapika’s hand flew up to his nose and mouth instinctively, desperate to put a filter between himself and that horrible scent - the scent of blood and devastation. It had been everywhere in Lukso. It was all he could do not to let his eyes turn red, startled by the memory of the dried blood and gore of his clansmen. 

The alpha contestant was dangerous. Incredibly so.

Leorio and Gon seemed to have realised how dangerous the other contestant was as well. A beta was just as well attuned to the scents of alphas as omegas were, and Leorio certainly looked disturbed by the commotion, and although Gon had not yet presented yet, he too was alarmed. Both their backs had stiffened, their body language on high alert as they watched what had been a seemingly innocuous interaction quickly go south. 

“That’s not good enough!” the angry man continued, his beta scent skyrocketing and making the other contestants bristle. It was rather rude to lose control so easily, letting your scent brush over others so recklessly. “Apologise! Get on your knees and apologise!”

Kurapika balked. How had the man not smelled the clown? Could he not tell the danger he was in?! 

There was no time to warn him. 

It happened quickly.

One minute the beta man was yelling, the next, his throat had been cut and he collapsed to the ground, clutching fruitlessly at his neck to stop the blood gushing down his front. He choked, before finally growing still. 

His murderer smiled, wiping the playing card he had used to kill him on the man’s jacket, before pocketing it. 

All the other contestants took a step backwards, giving the murderous harlequin a wide berth. Not surprisingly, the crowd parted with nary a fuss to let him walk through unbothered. 

“We’d better be careful.” Leorio said, jaw still hanging.

“Quite.” Kurapika murmured, blood chilled by the ease with which the clown had taken a man’s life. 

Meanwhile, Gon looked perplexed. 

Now that Kurapika was aware of the alpha’s scent, it was difficult to ignore. The clown oozed danger. The feeling was universal, it seemed, judging by the hesitant looks from the other contestants, all who seemed to be going out of their way to avoid drawing the clown’s ire. Kurapika kept his gaze carefully set on the clown, tracking his every movement until he came to a stop. Beside him were two other men. 

Kurapika froze. 

One of the men looked even stranger than the clown. He had a blue mohawk sprouting from the top of his head like an ugly pot plant, and nasty golden needles inserted into every inch of his body. He looked like a human pincushion. There was a similar scent of blood stemming from him, as well as a curious _nothingness_. It was like he was using scent dampeners - which wasn’t uncommon - but even the scent dampeners couldn’t quite stamp out the scent of copper wafting from his skin. But overall, he smelled like nothing and it was impossible to tell if he was an alpha, beta, or omega. Which was almost as disconcerting as his companion who smelled like a crime scene. 

The third man, however, was why Kurapika found his feet glued to the floor. Alpha, in every sense of the word. He was swathed all in black, from the length of his leather coat to the heavy boots strapped to his feet. Black hair combed back tightly against his skull, showing off a black cross emblazoned on his pale forehead. Despite his startling appearance, he was the most attractive of the three, with his dark eyes, strong nose, and the set of his jaw. 

But his scent. 

He smelled even worse than the other two. There was blood of course, but also ash and smoke curling from his deathly white skin, telling of the devastation he left in his wake. Danger. Avoid at all costs. That was the scent stemming from him, the scent of an alpha that was not to be trifled with. And it was clearly affecting the other contestants, who were all making efforts to shift away from him. 

But beyond the carnage wafting from his skin, Kurapika could smell something else. 

And it made him pause.

A musty smell, like the fine layer coated on the dustjacket of a book, and a burning wick, a single flame burning brightly in a window, the occupant enthralled in the pages of an ancient tome, and something gentle, dried flower petals, carefully pressed between the pages, its vibrant colours forever recorded against the parchment. 

Despite himself, Kurapika found himself inhaling deeply, taking great lungfuls of the scent, eager to let it wash over him, inside and out. It felt like no scent he had ever smelled before. It was complex, rich, throwing him into turmoil. In all his travels, he had never come across anything like it. He had encountered sweet smelling omegas, betas, and alphas, but none could compare. Not even close. 

Then the man turned. Eyes like silver fountains flashed, locking with his own. Kurapika averted his gaze instantly. To his horror, his cheeks felt hot. He was blushing. 

Kurapika looked back at his friends. But he could still feel the Alpha’s piercing gaze on him. Tonpa thankfully distracted his attention when he fiddled with his bag.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” He brought orange juice cans out of his bag and extended it to them,” A little something to mark our acquaintance.”

Gon happily accepted the drink and Leorio replied “Much Appreciated.” opening the can.

Kurapika following the others, clicked open the can. He took a sniff of the orange juice. Something was off. But before he could check what his can was dislodged and smacked out of his hands with a resounding clang.

Kurapika looked up at the assailant - confusion and anger resting on the tips of his tongue but stopping when he realized who smacked it.

The man wore a feigned apologetic expression on his face. The can was uselessly gushing out on the floor but Kurapika couldn’t care enough to look at it when the man kept staring at him. On a closer look, Kurapika noticed the pale smoothness of his skin and the stark gripping muscle the man displayed.

“Hey be careful-”Leorio snapped but freezes when the familiar scent washes over the group. 

The alpha’s scent acidified gazing back at Leorio. A slight terror rips through the base of his neck to his toes. Kurapika carefully steps between them. The alpha’s scent simmered down to a more neutral tone as Kurapika slowly pushed Leorio away from the mysterious man’s sight.

Tonpa looked shell-shocked at what happened, he was shaking the can he was holding. Gon was on alert, his grip on his fishing pole tightened and Leorio edged away from the alpha.

The man was still staring at Kurapika.

Kurapika stiffened at the unnerving attention this man was projecting. It didn’t help that his scent somehow softened whenever they locked eyes. 

“That’s poison.” That was not the man. Instead a white puff of hair rolled over to their area-with a skateboard. He too froze at the presence of the black haired man and side stepped over to Gon.

Waves of confusion rushed over him. Did that mean that the scary man was protecting him?  
  
Kurapika looked over to him, expecting to find the looming alpha-but found that he had already rejoined his maniac group. Kurapika didn’t even notice him leaving, years living in a forest had fine tuned his hearing but he couldn’t even notice the soft pads of the man leaving.

The group visibly relaxed when the man left. 

The trio of strange men all but shrank to the back of Kurapika’s mind, as the exam proctor finally appeared.

.

.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurapika and kuroro collide in a passionate, heated - oh, no. wrong chapter.  
> but uhhhh... tensions are certainly rising.   
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos!  
> it means so much to us that some of you would take the time out of your day to give us such awesome feedback and support the fic. we really enjoy writing this fic and reading all your wonderful comments!   
> without further ado, please enjoy this second chapter!!!  
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Against his better wishes, Kurapika’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, fuelled by raw adrenaline and the terror of what he had just seen. Hisoka was a dangerous contestant, this he already knew, but to see him kill that many people - and  _ so very easily _ \- it was shocking. Prayers of protection spilled incessantly from his lips as he ran. Prayers for Leorio, who had run in the other direction. Hopefully his newfound companion was safe - even in their short time together, Kurapika had found himself enjoying his company. But he needed to worry about himself too. So he also muttered hasty prayers for himself. Prayers of Lukso, the most powerful words he could muster. Hopefully they could both make it through. 

But no matter how much he ran, the terror clutching in his chest would not cease. It was like a parasite burrowing into his ribcage. 

Someone was following him.

Hot tears began to well in Kurapika’s eyes. It was only the First Phase of the exam, and already his dreams were dashed to pieces. He could not fight Hisoka. It had taken just one look to determine that much for himself. Even with all his years of training in the Kurta fighting traditions, or his mastery of the bokken, it was clear that whatever mysterious power Hisoka possessed could easily overwhelm him. 

But he needed to survive. He had to. He owed it to his clansmen. How pitiful that his quest for justice should be ended just as soon as it had begun! The Phantom Troupe were still out there, running amok and destroying lives. Worse still, the eyes of his clansmen were still being traded as recklessly as cards on a poker table, passed between one flesh collector’s hands to the next. 

He could not die yet!

He would not!

All he could do was run.

Dread trickled down his spine as he registered a tell-tale hurt blooming in his chest. He had been running for hours now - first in the tunnel, and now across the foggy monster-infested fields - and he was starting to tire. He would not last much longer. 

And the person chasing him was gaining on him. 

They were quick.

Swearing under his breath, Kurapika pressed on. He needed to follow the examiner, and not get lost in the deep fog circling around him. But he also needed to outrun his pursuer. 

His pursuer. 

It wasn’t Hisoka.

The scent was wrong. 

Kurapika’s blood froze. It was the other alpha. The one who smelled simultaneously like the tragic throes of death and devastation, but also like gentle nights in, curled up with a book with no-one around to bother him. The scent filled his lungs. It was like a cool balm, soothing the hurt and miraculously, the exhaustion pulling at him seemed to melt away. 

And that was what made Kurapika stop dead in his tracks. 

The scent grew stronger as the alpha approached, encompassing the clearing in his cloying, yet reassuring perfume. Kurapika’s legs trembled. Inwardly, he cursed himself for reacting so weakly to the mere presence of an alpha. He had certainly never done so before! Why now?! 

“Come out, coward!” Kurapika barked, eyes piercing the fog.

For a second nothing happened. But then there was the rustling of the undergrowth and the long grass, and the alpha emerged from the fog. His spidery hands were raised as if in surrender, not quite matching the expressionless look on his face. As if he were thinking, calculating something. 

Kurapika did not lower his bokken.

“Why are you following me?!” Kurapika demanded. His eyes flickered across the alpha’s form. 

There was barely a hair out of place from the start of the exam. Kurapika suspected he hadn’t even taken his coat off, despite the inordinate amount of running they’d all been doing. But unlike Hisoka, the man did not have blood caked under his fingernails, nor on his person. It was likely that whilst he was dangerous, he was a mite more composed than his clown friend. 

And if the man wanted to hurt him, surely he would have simply let Kurapika drink from the poisoned can that Tonpa had tried to pass him. Instead, he had intervened. Cutting through the distance between them at a startling speed, only to knock the can out of his hands and look at Kurapika with a startling amount of concern. As if he cared what happened to him. 

The man raised an eyebrow, amused: “Following you? No, I’m following the examiner. That was his instruction, wasn’t it?”

True, but not exactly. And Kurapika was much sharper than this man was giving him credit for. 

“You’ve been tailing me for ages now! You could have taken the cobbled path, five hundred meters back but you kept on the same track as I!”

“I’m just following the examiner.” the man insisted, shrugging. “I guess you could say I was following you, because you were following the examiner so closely - and I trusted your intuition.” 

The flattery sailed right over Kurapika’s head. Pretty words were meaningless.

“I have no intention of fighting you, but let’s get going, shall we? Before we get lost in the fog.”

Hesitantly, Kurapika stowed his bokken away. He did not want to run with this strange alpha. His scent was too confusing, his manner, infuriating. He looked far too detached to the chaos happening around them, as if the screams of the other contestants weren’t still audible in his ears. Maybe he was. Maybe he had killed a few of them. 

“Don’t try anything funny.” Kurapika warned, barely keeping his eyes from flashing. He needed to be careful. The last thing he needed was one of the other contestants seeing his scarlet eyes and trying to take him down. 

“What is your name?” the man asked, his hands stowed away in his pockets as he matched Kurapika’s pace.

“I refuse.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re not friends. I have no intention of telling you my name.”

The man did not look fazed in the least. He simply smiled: “Why, that’s because we haven’t been introduced. I have been quite rude, haven’t I? Well, you may call me Kuroro.”

It was an odd name. It sounded made up. Perhaps the man was using a pseudonym for the exam. It was a tactic that others had used in the past to protect their identities, in Kurapika’s research on the history of the Hunter Exam. Still, he was matching Kurapika’s every rebuff with overwhelming politeness and it was getting difficult to simply ignore him. 

Scowling, Kurapika finally conceded: “...my name is Kurapika.”

“A beautiful name, if quite unusual.” Kuroro said, tilting his chin. “Where do you hail from?”

“You may have my name, but no more than that.”

“A cautious, if not disappointingly appropriate response.” Kuroro said with a sigh, “I find myself forgetting our circumstances.”

“You need to be more careful.” Kurapika said airily. 

“Of course.” Kuroro replied languidly, he looked too normal-it was as if this race-no, this test was nothing more than an afternoon lunch to him.

Kurapika gulped, while he hoped that the man won’t hurt him, he still couldn’t trust him for now. His scent while calming at times, was still piping with a dangerous aura.

“You’re not mated,” It was a keen observation. Kurapika stiffened as he ran, he made sure to suppress his unmated scent before he started the Exam. It was a powerful Kurta formula that masked his fertility. The others couldn’t detect it-but somehow, despite the odds  _ he _ did.

Kurapika gazed at the man, he had a sharp sense of smell to find that out. But Kurapika clenched his lips, he won’t entertain him with an answer. It would give Kuroro too much of an edge, an advantage between them. An unmated omega is valuable information and in the Hunter Exam, you need everything to make it.

Kurapika doesn’t trust him. The way his eyes survey his body, the ridiculous way he runs-hands in his pockets, feet wildly pacing and hair flying in tangles from the wind.

“That’s good, I don’t like sloppy seconds,” Kuroro mused, smirking at the flummoxed expression Kurapika donned.

A surge of anger flitted through him. The Audacity! For a second, Kurapika had believed that he wasn’t like the other strong-headed Alphas. But no, he was wrong again. Kuroro was just like any other stubborn bull-headed alpha.

Kurapika glanced around, desperate to see familiar faces so that he could run off away from him. He hoped that the peak of silver hair was Killua.

“Don't worry I’m unmated too,” Kuroro said, a sliver of teasing was alight on his tongue. He pointed to his clear neck; no sign of any bite marks present. For some reason, his body relaxed, tension subsided from his veins and he sighed in...relief?   
  
Kurapika cursed his traitorous omega body. Come any alpha and he would feel like this, surely. Kuroro would be no different.

“So, what is an omega such as yourself doing taking on such a dangerous challenge like the Hunter Exam?” Kuroro asked when Kurapika had still not responded to his teasing. 

Rolling his eyes, Kurapika heaved a sigh. He was so  _ tired  _ of the outside world. 

In Lukso, the primary and secondary genders had all been viewed as equal, with no particular roles assigned to any of them, nor any antiquated ideas of what one’s role should be based on what they smelled like or what they had between their legs. Kurapika had only begun to present in those final days, much to his friends' excitement. The presentation of your gender was cause for celebration - and at the same time every year, all the new alphas, betas, and omegas, would dance at the Presentation Festival, a gathering with music, food and drink, and the laying of many flower wreaths at the feet of those youth who had presented that year. Kurapika had presented, but the Presentation Festival had never happened that year. His friends, including poor Pairo, had never even gotten a chance to present and now never would. 

But whilst the Kurta people had always seen the genders as equal, they knew the outside world did not. Which is why his people had also taught him and his peers how to dampen their scents, to disguise their genders - regardless of whether they were alphas, betas, or omegas - to avoid the stigma attached to their individual gender. So when he had been forced to face the outside world alone without his family, Kurapika had known to use his scent damping formula. Especially considering that he was not only a male omega, but that he possessed the last living set of the Kurta scarlet eyes. Nevertheless, he was always disappointed by the people he met. It seemed Kuroro was no different than anyone else. 

“An omega like me?” Kurapika muttered, keeping his gaze set forwards, carefully set on the examiner’s trail. It hurt that Kuroro saw him as a vessel for pups, nothing more. More than that, he was surprised that he cared at all what this random alpha thought. Kuroro was just a stranger. “Would it surprise you to know that I’m going to become a Blacklist Hunter?”

To Kurapika’s immense satisfaction, Kuroro noticeably stiffened. It was typical for sexist alphas to react adversely when he told them of his ambitions. It jarred them. And Kurapika loved watching them  _ squirm _ . When he could no longer resist the urge to peek, he was shocked to see a divot in Kuroro’s brow. Instead of the mocking amusement he had expected, Kuroro looked… concerned. 

“A Blacklist Hunter?” Kuroro repeated, “You?”

“Your prejudices are unbecoming. Ugly, even.”

“There must be a reason.” 

“A Blacklist Hunter has an incredible amount of influence and connections, especially in the underworld.” Kurapika said carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. “I need that power to right a wrong. That’s all.”

Kuroro nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer: “A noble quest. You do strike me as the martyr type, I must admit.”

“Well, how about you, why are you getting your Hunter Licence?”

“Money.” 

“That’s it?” 

Kurapika was becoming more and more unimpressed with Kuroro with every waking second he spent with him. Even if every whiff of his alpha scent was like a breath of fresh air. 

“Does that strike you as shallow?”

“Incredibly.”

“Well, what if I told you I grew up in a dumpster, with little more than the flies for company?”

“There are more important things in life than money. The people you cherish, the bonds you forge.”

“Very true, but I have found that more often than not, money helps.”

Kurapika could not fault him for that. Unfortunately, he was one-hundred percent correct. The world ran on money - it was why all his clansmen had been murdered and their eyes plucked from their heads. It was why he was an orphan. It was why Kuroro had grown up in poverty. 

“I must say, I’m surprised you aren’t here to attract a powerful mate. It’s been a common tactic from contestants in the past. Beautiful little omegas stumbling in without a clue, showing off their necks to anyone who looks strong enough to win this little contest.”

Kurapika scowled, “Is that why you’re here? To snatch up some poor helpless omega who is destitute by tragedy of circumstance? All because they were born an omega and not a big, strong alpha?” 

Kuroro smiled, “I’m still deciding.”

“Your scent is foul, like roadkill. You’ll scare them all off.” 

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. For instance, your scent tells me that you consider me quite attractive”

Kurapika had a half a mind to kill him right there and then. Ethnics be damned on stupid alphas.

“Fix your nose, it may have been blocked by the amount of shit you eat to spew that shit.”   
  
Kurapika said haughtily, sprinting ahead of Kuroro to further deepen his point. Kurapika however did sneak a peek to see Kuroro’s stunned expression (serves him right!) morph into something undecipherable.

Unfortunately, like the picture perfect alpha he is, Kuroro easily catched up to Kurapika. Kurapika cursed his short legs, he still was young and had filling out to do!

Kuroro’s scent was still the same. There was no spike in hostility after Kurapika’s remark, which he was silently thankful for. Instead, the alpha seemed to be beaming. Kurapika pouted, how odd. Usually Alphas hated being told off-especially by Omegas but this one seemed to...enjoy it. 

“So Kurapika,” Kuroro asked calmly, as if Kurapika didn’t just speed off and insult the man a few seconds ago.

Kurapika glanced back at the man and instantly regretted it. He sported a challenging smirk, his feet barely touching the floor and asked him, “If you’re unmated, then that means you’re single right?”

Kurapika wondered if the Hunter’s license was worth any of this. 

“My relationship status doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Something in Kuroro’s eyes glistened. Kurapika stuffed all the strange spikes of electricity down his throat at the sight. He was not doing this. He was not fawning over some admittedly intelligent but annoying Alpha.

Kurapika sighed at each intake of breath he took. This was going to be a very long run. It didn’t help that Kuroro was peacefully running besides him-the damn Alpha had the gall to meander some flowers, comparing their prettiness to his. 

Kurapika scoffed at the comparison and hoped that the petal pink hue of his cheeks were from running-nothing less and nothing more!

Kurapika risked a chance and took a sneak peek at Kuroro-the man was busy studying the flowers that passed by them.

“You’re prettier than that flower too,” Kuroro mused nonchalantly, pointing at a magnificent flower patch. White Dittany. Kurapika has read it before from books when traditional omega books bored him. He remembered that omegas with flowery scents were always praised and held at high value in various culture.

Kurapika took a subconscious sniff at his garment. Strawberries. Fruity scents were deemed too childish at times and some omegas threw themselves down in floral fields to attract potential mates.

Yet, what Kuroro was doing now was strange. He just admitted that Kurapika smelled sweeter and was prettier than the ideal beauty standard. With a large gulp of Kuroro’s scent, Kurapika knew that he was being sincere.

He knew this because Kuroro’s scent softened. It’s dark edges smoothened and the soft pressing of sweet scented flowers bloomed in his lungs. 

Kurapika too looked back at the White Dittany. It was very pretty. It’s white petals exploded like fireworks but Kurapika was hesitant. Knowing Kuroro, or as much as Kurapika could know about Kuroro meeting him a few hours ago. Kuroro’s words had meaning-multiple meanings interlaced with some obscure reference to an outdated book or a rambling of a long past philosopher. If Kurapika had to guess, it seemed like Kuroro was showing off his knowledge.

Other Alphas would display and pulsate their bulging muscles but Kuroro was different. Instead he struck a chord when he mentioned a rare book that Kurapika only heard whispers about. It was a book on the Dark Continent. Only those in tight circles have even heard of the title. Yet Kuroro proudly told of it’s contents as if it was only the morning newspaper!

Kurapika’s thoughts flushed back to that flower. Surely, Kuroro must mean something by it, perhaps a clue to the Hunter Exam? Where he found the book? 

Kurpaika almost stopped in his tracks when he connected the dots. His face red and fists clenched when he remembered reading about floriography. The meaning of that flower?

Love and passion.

But judging by the arrogant smirk Kuroro displayed when Kurapika solved his little game-it almost meant another thing. Another meaning:

The White Dittany was also a powerful aphrodisiac.

Kurapika rolled his eyes. Just when he thought Kuroro would be different- he destroyed his fantasy.

Typical Alpha.

Kurapika glanced at the powerful thighs and arms. He didn’t mean to but somehow his eyes just so happened to move on it’s own and unconsciously landed there. His muscles while appearing strong hardly seem fazed at the stress of the run. It was like Kuroro went through much worse and this Hunter Exam was child’s play.

Kuroro, noticing Kurapika’s appreciative looks, sent a smirk his way. Kurapika rolled his eyes at the gesture and looked back ahead at the proctor.

Typical Alpha indeed.

Kurapika remembers what his mother told him about Alphas. Loud, boisterous creatures needed to be taught a lesson. And there is one way that can get them to leave you if they’re bothering you.

Kurapika pressed his lips in a tight line. While he didn’t really want to do it, time was of the essence and he didn’t really want to be stuck running with Kuroro for the entirety of the Hunter Exam.

Kuroro tensed as a sweet delectable scent glided delicately into his nose. He looked over to Kurapika who's running slowed and then skidded to an elegant stop. Curious, he too calmly stopped and padded over to him.

Usually when Omegas scents sweetened it meant one thing.

Kuroro fought back a victorious smirk, who knew the foul-tempered Omega would have been this easy? Kuroro almost felt defeated when he saw Kurapika’s shy stature. Key word was  _ almost. _

Kuroro inhaled the sweetest scent he has ever smelled in his life and savoured it’s flavour. It was delicate on the surface but in it’s depth carried history and fantasies Kuroros hopes to discover one day.

Kurapika was truly adorable like this. His eyes skidded from Kuroro’s face to the ground in sly glances-almost like a rabbit would. Kurapika shyly pushed a strand of golden hair back and bit his finger in a way Kuroro could only describe as teasingly.

Kurapika was beckoning for him. And who was Kuroro to decline?   
  
Kuroro gladly marched up, closer and closer into the lovely Omega’s personal space. Now he could practically taste the pungent strawberries coating his lips. A pang of sharp hunger tore through him. He held himself together. He wouldn’t lose control-not here, not now.

Kurapika accepting the Alpha’s presence leaned in closer. Kuroro’s heart was beating out of his chest, each centimeter Kurapika came closer so did his heart flap wildly out of control.

Kuroro too leaned in closer. 

He closed his eyes.

He could finally taste and savour the sweet sweet delectable lips of-

Kuroro paused. He didn’t feel lips-he didn’t feel anything for that matter. All the strawberry fields vanished and Kuroro felt like he was knocked down. A gulp of air told him that the Kurapika was long gone.

He saw a flash of golden hair from the distance, smiling back at him.

Kurapika backed away, turning in the direction of the proctor. He glanced at Kuroro over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him: “I’m sorry, did you think that I was another helpless omega here to fall at your feet?”

To his immense satisfaction, Kuroro’s mouth fell open in shock. Smiling thinly, Kurapika turned on his heel and left.

Hah.

Let him dwell on that.

The time seemed to pass slower without Kuroro running beside him. Before long, the proctor Satotz finally came to a stop and thankfully the endless columns of tree trunks and fog fell away, revealing a large clearing. In the middle stood a tall building. 

One by one, all the contestants who had successfully tailed Satotz emerged from the tree line. Relief flooded Kurapika’s veins as he spotted Gon and Leorio, sitting at the base of a tree a short distance away. They were not unscathed - Gon was covered in bruises and Leorio had a nasty black eye and a bruise on the side of his face. But otherwise, they looked fine. And given the intensity of the exam, a couple of bruises and scratches was expected.

“Kurapika, you’re okay!” Gon cheered, his face lighting up like the sun as saw Kurapika approach. When he smiled, there was a ghost of Pairo there in the tug of his lips and the crinkle of his eyes. Then he sniffed the air, his smile fading: “Was that alpha following you?” 

Oh no. He probably smelled like blood too now, just because Kuroro had been running beside him. On the one hand, maybe the other less than savoury contestants would stay away from him, but he still didn’t like the idea of smelling like a blood bath. Gross. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Kurapika said, kneeling beside them, already sifting in his bag for a salve. Poor Leorio looked like he’d been through the wringer. “What happened to you guys?”

Gon grimaced, “Hisoka showed up!”

Kurapika’s jaw dropped, “And he let you guys live?!”

“Huh, we scared him off, didn’t we, Gon?” Leorio barked, shooting a glare in the clown’s direction. “He couldn’t take the heat!”

That didn’t sound accurate, somehow, but Kurapika did not pry. Instead he focused on smoothing the salve over Leorio’s cheek. Another Kurta recipe. In his travels he had found it useful on more than one occasion to heal his cuts and bruises. 

Distantly, he detected Kuroro’s scent flare aggressively. Kurapika suppressed a flinch. He hoped that wasn’t directed at him, but he couldn’t imagine such a delayed reaction from their conversation earlier. Well, he did not envy whoever had drawn his ire. 

“He beat us up.” Gon admitted, making Leorio scoff.

Dipping his fingers into the salve, Kurapika began to apply it to Gon’s wounds. He scowled at the mention of Hisoka: “I don’t understand him. At all.”

“Let’s stay away from him from now on.” Leorio said, making the others nod in agreement. “And his creepy friends.”

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Phase begins!!!  
> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> In which Kuroro is perplexed by the intricacies of gourmet dining and of Kurapika too.   
> Also Featuring: one big Hormonal Alpha Death Match whilst the betas and omegas share pointed looks and thank the gods they aren't meat-headed alphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're baaaaaaaaaaack.
> 
> ooof.
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who has supported our fic so far with your amazing comments and kudos! we love sharing this story with you! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Alpha, beta, omega. In Meteor City, such designations had no standing. No one gender was better than the other. No, because in Meteor City, all the occupants were the lowest of the low. They were already subhuman in the eyes of the world, so the social complexities of the secondary genders had never quite taken off, considering they were far too busy scrambling in heaps of garbage for scraps, fighting every day to see the next. It helped that they all smelled of trash, so their particular scents never quite bloomed past the stink of the sweat, grime, and dust coating their bodies. 

Kuroro had not found out his own designation until years later. 

Alpha. 

He had shrugged and moved on. 

There was no place for frivolity in Meteor City, and the luxury of a second gender was not one any of them could afford. Sure, every few months his rut would strike and he would sequester himself away in his room, his fingers curling into the sheets as he rode out the worst of his alpha hormones. But that was a minor inconvenience, nothing more. His friends all presented as the years went by - alpha, beta, omega - and they too, shrugged it off as easily as a coat on a hot day. 

Unnecessary. 

And of course, once they had begun to strike gold, their scents had begun to flourish. Each of them wholly unique. It was a curiosity to Kuroro, the strangeness of scents. Whenever he wandered outside of his home country, he was struck by the millions of unique scents crawling up his nostrils, fighting for dominance, to be heard. 

The scents of powerful alphas, pleasant betas, demure omegas, all filtering together in a strange melting-pot of perfume. But none of them had stirred him. 

Not until this moment. 

He had once walked past an omega who smelled like coffee. That was it. Just a cup of coffee. A pleasant smell to some, downright intolerable to others. That was the norm. Kuroro, who liked coffee, had simply inhaled appreciatively but moved on without a second thought. 

That was how it always was. He had walked past betas, smelling of liquid chocolate, and of alphas, with scents of freshly tilled earth and the first smell of rain. But he simply shrugged, appreciating the scent with as much afterthought one gave a pleasant sprig of perfume.

But he had never encountered a scent that made him double-over in shock, hallucinating things he could not possibly know, or feel things he had never felt possible. He had read about such encounters in his books - omegas swooning over powerful alphas with scents that made them think of adventure and danger, or betas courting fine omegas whose scents reminded them of home-baked goods, memories of baking with their mothers, the dough sticking to their face and hands. But that was all in books. Exaggeration for the sake of excitement, to titillate the audience. 

You too, can find romance! That was the sale’s pitch. It was what every media outlet, every fantastical story promised the world, but something that had never felt attainable in the least - and definitely not to a child clawing their way upwards in the slums of Meteor City. And whilst Kuroro certainly enjoyed his books, he knew the difference between reality and fantasy.

And yet, somehow, this omega smelled exactly as described in the long epics, the weeping poems, and all the flowery romances he had ever read. 

The very instant the omega’s perfume had brushed the tip of his nose, Kuroro had frozen to the spot. He had briefly registered that the elevator doors had opened and more contestants had filtered into the tunnel, but they were lost in the crowd. From there, he had let his gaze sweep across the crowd until finally, he had spotted him.

A young, blonde omega. 

He was pretty.

But the scent was what had captured his attention. It was the scent of the first strawberries of the harvest, ruby red and ripe, nestled in the shrubbery, their sweet perfume wafting over a green valley, overflowing with life. He felt the strawberries bursting on his tongue, dipped in fresh cream. He could smell the wildflowers in the valley, the thick scent of pine too, like he was meandering through vast fields of greenery, feeling the grass between his toes and the sun warm on his face. It felt all too real.

And it was baffling. Kuroro had grown up in a dumpster, not in rolling green fields. 

_ This. _ This was the scent of fantasy. This was the scent the authors in his books so desperately tried to capture. Perhaps some of them had encountered it themselves. 

If it were a normal omega, he would simply smell strawberries. A lovely smell, but not worth his consideration. But no. Kuroro was seeing things he had never seen before. Vivid hallucinations only possible because of the omega’s scent. This omega was  _ special.  _

And just as the scent made him think of things he had once thought far beyond his reach, his continued exposure to the omega’s presence had begun to stir something within him. He had always spent his ruts alone, writing them off as a bodily inconvenience, something to get over and done with as quickly as possible. But now, as he found his eyes wandering over slender limbs, honey-gold locks, and fine porcelain features, for the first time in his life, he had begun to covet another person. 

Which brought him to now, having stalked the omega across the foggy fields, keeping an eye on him so he did not unintentionally wander into the clutches of some strange beast, or worse, Hisoka. To his unending delight, the boy had not needed his help at all, and had even given Hisoka the slip. 

And then finally, Kuroro had seized his chance and approached the boy. 

Luring him into his circle had been surprisingly easy, but making him stay was something else. It was a challenge he had never taken on. Stealing precious gemstones and lifting priceless paintings from heavily fortified mansions, and taking them for his own was as easy as breathing. But a living, breathing person? 

Now that was a different matter.

But he could tell Kurapika was intrigued by him. For whatever reason, the boy did not shy away from his alpha scent, but rather seemed to bask in it. And that was a very promising sign indeed. The only people who seemed to tolerate his scent were his Spiders. But so far, Kurapika had not backed down.

There was an attraction there.

And no matter how miniscule it happened to be, Kuroro would nurture it.

* * *

The Second Phase was somewhat droll.

There was little excuse to interrupt Kurapika now, given that his attentions were far more focused on his wearisome companions, the bow-legged beta, and the two noisy children, one an omega and the other clearly unpresented. Not to mention the task itself was painfully boring. Cooking. _Really?_

Kuroro had been cooking for himself his whole life. This task was a joke.

Sure enough, the other contestants breezed through - all presenting some variety of roast pig that made the fat beta proctor wheeze in delight. The other proctor, Menchi, did not seem impressed however. 

Sushi.

What on earth was sushi? Sure, Kuroro had read descriptions of it in books - vinegar, rice, fish - but that was the extent of his knowledge. Even in all his travels, he had never actually tasted the Jappon dish before. He had seen it served up in high-end restaurants, tiny pillows of rice topped with a sliver of fish, roulades of rice and filling, and just cuts of fish served with sauce. The variations seemed endless and the machinations of actually putting it together evaded him. Sushi was quite complex, it turned out.

And Kuroro had no idea how to make it. 

“Oho, you disappeared there for a while. I was beginning to think you got lost.”

Hisoka sounded as saccharine as ever, the words lilting on his tongue like a hard-boiled candy. However, his jaw was set and his scent was fluctuating dangerously - it appeared that Hisoka was equally puzzled by sushi as everyone else. 

Washing the rice out carefully in the strainer, Kuroro scoffed: “No, you didn’t.” 

When he looked up, he paused. Hisoka was looking over at Kurapika and his friends who were all trying to figure out what the hell sushi was (much like everyone else). Hisoka’s golden eyes slid over them one by one, before finally stopping on Kurapika. 

By the looks of it, he was taking the lead, washing the rice out in a strainer much like Kuroro - and he had already placed a bottle of rice-wine vinegar and already laid out some fish at his prep station. Scent flaring, Kuroro bristled happily at the sight - it appeared Kurapika was well-read too, or at least had some vague idea of what sushi is. 

Meanwhile, Hisoka was assessing the omega with an indecipherable look. He smirked at Kuroro: “You were wandering alone with an omega? Scandalous.”

Ah, so Hisoka could detect Kurapika’s omega scent too, even despite the scent dampeners. A tickle of annoyance tugged his lips downwards. What else could Hisoka smell? The thought of him feeling grass beneath his feet or the warmth of a kind sun, when those sensations were reserved for Kuroro, well… it was unpleasant to say the least. 

“We ran into each other.”

Kuroro very tactfully left out the part where he had been tailing the young omega since the beginning of the Exam. The thought of Hisoka latching onto that knowledge before he had even made sense of it himself did not seem fruitful. 

“Hmmm, he smells  _ delightful. _ So does the smaller one. Though I don’t think  _ Gittarackur _ would like me saying that.” Hisoka said hungrily. From what little time Kuroro had spent with Illumi Zoldyck, he had been able to discern that all the Zoldycks were fiercely loyal to one another. So if someone like Hisoka was trying to court Illumi’s little brother, Kuroro rather imagined the older Zoldyck would not like that one bit. 

“Tell me, what can you smell? In the older one’s scent?”

In a manner that was far too dramatic for the request, Hisoka threw his head back and inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. His eyes widened, and he rasped: “That is a  _ very _ nice omega.”

A surge of irritation bled into Kuroro’s expression, but he quickly schooled his features again. He did not want Hisoka to know the extent of his interest. Even if he was one of his Spiders, Hisoka was sometimes a bit too… slippery. 

“But what can you smell?”

“Strawberries.” Hisoka mused, licking his lips. “Something else too, something far more complex, but I would have to sniff his neck. And I’m afraid he wouldn’t like that very much.”

Kuroro nodded. That confirmed his suspicions. Even with his keen senses, Hisoka could not detect the richness of Kurapika’s smell. And Hisoka had a very sharp nose. Which meant only Kuroro could smell the ripe strawberries, the wildflowers swaying in the breeze, or see the rolling green hills. It was a perfume meant only for him. And that thought was  _ electrifying.  _

“Mmmm, Gittarackur said he smelled very beautiful too. Perhaps he and I might have a little post-exam treat?”

Despite his better senses, Kuroro could not hold back a snarl. The mere thought of anyone touching Kurapika was reprehensible to him. Just seeing him moments ago, fawning over that bumbling beta with far more care than he deserved had made his blood boil. 

Hisoka’s eyes widened with delight: “Oho, I see. Now that is delightful. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you ever so much as turn your head to consider another alpha, beta, or omega before. And you’ve certainly encountered the sweetest of the bunch in all your travels.”

“That sort of thing doesn’t interest me.”

“But he does?”

Kuroro shrugged, “Perhaps.”

“He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

The thought had occurred to him when he first laid eyes on the boy. He was fresh-faced: still growing into his limbs, yet already heart-wrenchingly beautiful. But he had already written it off as an unavoidable reality. No matter what, he would have the boy. Age was of little consequence. 

“I don’t want to hear that from you.”

Whatever the reason, the omega was meant for him. He was  _ Kuroro’s _ . The sweet pull of his perfume only confirmed that. 

* * *

In the end, none of the contestants came close to presenting a dish that even closely resembled sushi. Even for all his worldly experience and knowledge, Kuroro’s approximation of sushi was deemed “foul, barely edible, and plain weird” by the proctor. It caught him off guard. Usually, he could not have cared less what others thought, but the sushi he had prepared certainly looked like restaurant quality! And surely the taste was not all that bad? Scrounging for scraps since birth had taught him well to eat what he could, when he could. 

Kuroro was beginning to despise that Alpha woman.

Was this the Hunter Exam, or a daytime television cooking competition? It seemed both were equally as exciting - that is, not at all. It did not help that this so-called Gourmet Hunter - a ridiculous title, all things considered - had standards that no one could possibly hope to meet. She was probably the type to write scathing reviews on napkin folds in any restaurant she happened to visit - woe-betide the poor serving staff who had to deal with her antics. Hell, she probably waved her Alpha scent around shamelessly bullying the poor wait staff into meeting her every whim and fancy. 

And the more he steamed over it, the more his fingers ached for his Ben’s knife. Or at least to strangle her. He was not alone in his murderous machinations. 

“You all FAIL!” Menchi declared viciously, glaring at them all down the length of her nose, as if they were worth less than the dirt under her toenails. 

The effect was immediate. A sour stench swept the clearing as all the contestants bristled with anger, now compounding on top of their exhaustion, irritation and stress from the First Stage, to make a truly intolerable perfume. It was almost like he was back home in Meteor City, brushing past the other unruly occupants discontented with their lot in life, only perhaps worse - because many of these contestants had experienced the lap of luxury, and their scents were always more putrid than even the poorest of souls. 

Indeed, Hisoka’s usual smirk had faded and he looked quite ready to skin Menchi at any moment. The scent of blood bloomed heavily in the air as the prospect of violence crossed his foxlike face. 

Kuroro’s scent flared too. He was tired of following these silly rules at the whims of the Hunter Association, much less having to take seriously someone like Menchi and her harebrained companion. Gourmet Hunter. Hah. The two of them wouldn’t last five seconds in Meteor City, forced to live off mouldy bread and rotten fruit. The taste of poverty would shock them into an early death. 

But then another scent, subtler than the rowdy odor of the contestants sifted to his nostrils. Kuroro’s spine straightened.

Kurapika.

It was a melancholy scent - deft of all joy, only dampened further by exhaustion, and something truly dark. It was only a whimper, but it was something that made him want to prostrate himself on the ground and  _ scream _ . 

Kurapika was upset. 

When Kuroro turned his head, Kurapika’s face was blank, he was staring at the ground, eyes as lifeless as a doll’s. Upset was quite the understatement. For whatever reason, it seemed he had been pinning a great deal of hope on securing a Hunter Licence. And now that it seemed the rug was being pulled out from under his feet, his sweet enamouring bouquet was being snuffed out. And the burgeoning scent taking over was making ice drip down Kuroro’s spine. 

He did not like it one bit.

A muscle twitched in his cheek, and his attention turned back to the Exam proctor. Kuroro’s annoyance, which had been just a midge nipping at his skin - easily brushed away and disposed of - was now rapidly descending into something far more unruly. 

The other contestants seemed to sense it too. A hush fell over the crowd, their scents falling away entirely as something truly monstrous washed over them, the promise of blood, violence, and ash, of total decimation. They all faltered, subconsciously shifting away from the source - Kuroro himself. 

Even Hisoka, who had been the most annoyed of the lot, looked taken aback. 

The only one unaffected was Kurapika, who did not seem to have noticed the shift in the air. The danger was not meant for him, and his body had already sensed it. Rather he was still staring blankly at his feet, ignoring even the tiny hands of his little green friend trying to tug him away from Kuroro’s ire. 

Meanwhile, the idiotic proctor seemed to have finally realised the gravity of the situation. Menchi’s nostrils flared as Kuroro’s scent filtered across the clearing. Sure enough, her face paled and she took a step back. 

Kuroro smirked, enjoying the sight of her faltering. Seeing her ego collapse under the mere suggestion that there may be retribution for her actions was something to behold. Even after all these years, seeing the egos of the powerful crumble never got old.

His gaze flickered back to Kurapika, who was still stony faced. The scent was still strong, that withering hopelessness that made Kuroro’s chest tight. Instinctively, Kuroro’s scent flared again, more aggressive, less nonsense, as well as something soft, that only Kurapika would be able to detect. 

To his delight, Kurapika’s shoulders relaxed and he looked upwards. They locked eyes for only a second, before Kurapika turned to see his little friend tugging at him, finally paying him attention. But Kuroro did not care about that, because sure enough, the sad perfume had withered, replaced once again with that ambrosial bouquet of ripe strawberries and stretches of evergreen valleys and fields. 

Kuroro basked in the scent, continually perplexed by its calming properties. Already he could feel his blood pressure settling. 

As for Menchi. 

Well. 

She looked ready to pop a blood-vessel. The initial shock of Kuroro’s scent must have worn off, because now she looked ready to fight them all off with just the steak knife strapped to her belt. Suddenly, her scent which had been subdued before began to amplify - the scent of strange spices and herbs. Her powerful scent began to filter around the clearing, making the betas and omegas quiver with fright - the last thing they wanted was to get caught up in a stupid hormonal death match between all these murderous alphas. How on earth she expected to fight off all the examinees, no matter how inexperienced, certainly struck him as boisterous. There had to be just shy of one hundred contestants still in the running. 

Kuroro’s scent flared again, answering her challenge.

Cracking his neck, he moved into a fighting stance, reaching for the Ben’s knife strapped to the inside of his coat. He was beginning to tire of all this messing about. He was here to get his Hunter Licence, that’s all. If she were dead, the Hunter Association would have to find a replacement. Problem solved. She wouldn’t be able to fight them all, and certainly not himself, nor Hisoka and Illumi, least of all three concurrently.

Just as the atmosphere threatened to dip beyond the point of no return, there came a great whirring overhead, the trees blowing back from the force of something large moving through the air high above. 

Kuroro raised a hand to block out the sun as an airship descended over the clearing, the logo of the Hunter Association emblazoned clearly on the side. He blinked as Chairman Netero himself leapt down from the ship and onto the grass, not missing a beat as he made a graceful landing. The old show-off. 

Menchi’s shoulders stiffened. Just like that, her body language shifted dramatically. Her wide stance devolved into something not unlike a soldier awaiting orders, her back ramrod straight and her hands by her sides, not even twitching towards the steak knife. 

A subtle, yet powerful scent encompassed the clearing. 

Ah, so this was the kind of Alpha in charge of the Hunter Association. It was a rich musk, coiling thickly in the air, instantly relaxing all the betas and omegas with barely an effort - this was someone that could protect them. Even Kurapika and the little Zoldyck looked content, their alarmed heartbeats slowing to a normal thump in their chests. A curious power - one that Kuroro suddenly wished he had at his beck and call, if only to see the lines of Kurapika’s face relax and his frown disappear. 

There was no doubt about it - Chairman Netero was a leader, through and through, his very scent making an Alpha as domineering as Menchi bow her head in respect. Likewise, the other alphas in the clearing began to shy back from the fight, not looking Netero in the eye. Kuroro merely stared back unflinchingly. Oh, Netero’s scent was powerful, but Kuroro had grown up with the stench and rot of Meteor City in his nostrils and he bowed to no one. He wasn’t surprised in the least to see Hisoka and Illumi just as unimpressed by Netero’s little power display. 

“Menchi.” Netero said not ungently, “What’s all the fuss?”

From there, Menchi recounted what had happened. The examinees attempted to interrupt a grand total of once, only for Netero to give them a look, his bushy silver eyebrows raised admonishingly, making them hang their heads with embarrassment. 

At Netero’s urging, the Beta proctor, Buhara began to put in his version of events. 

“It looks to me that this was not a fair contest, Menchi.” Netero said finally, making the examinees bristle with vindication.

“They belittled my occupation.” Menchi protested, anger flaring. 

Kuroro’s scent spiked again, and he smirked as Menchi flinched. 

“On second thought, you all passed the first phase. Congrats!” Menchi cheered, clapping her hands like the insolent wind-up toy monkey that Shalnark sometimes played around with.

Kuroro’s eyes glanced back to see Kurapika laughing joyfully with his friends. Unbeknownst to him, Kuroro’s scent changed like smooth river water pouring into a pond filled with ducklings and flowers.

Netero turned his head briefly to shoot Kuroro a curious look. Then he shook his head at Menchi: “No. We will just think up a new challenge for them. And this time you will participate too and show them how it’s done, to give them a fighting chance. Does that sound fair?”

An eager smile lit up Menchi’s face, her scent spiking happily: “I have just the thing!”

The contestants paused, waiting eagerly.

“Boiled eggs!”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh jeez.  
> more extreme cooking???   
> up next, kuroro considers the complexities of boiling an egg and trying to woo kurapika.   
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he's better at one than the other.


End file.
